


I Will Find You

by Amateum



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 3ds, Barista!PJ, Cheese, Fluff, Gratuitous Taken references, I'm sorry Phil, M/M, Meet-Cute, One Shot, PJ is a good friend, Phil Swears 2k17, Pre-Slash, Rated T for language, Snark, Streetpasses, Student!Dan, Weatherman!Phil, as always, slight coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amateum/pseuds/Amateum
Summary: “But what if I make a complete fool of myself?”“Then you’ll never have to see him again.”“But I will. We literally pass each other every day, and once we know what the other looks like- ““Then you will resolutely ignore each other and continue exploiting the Streetpasses to get more puzzle pieces.” PJ interrupted. “It’ll be okay. Besides, that’s the worst-case scenario. Most likely, you’ll have enough to talk about for at least one conversation. And maybe,” he added sarcastically, “you’ll make a new friend for once.”Dan laughed. Right. Make a friend out of a complete stranger. Like that’ll happen.Or: Dan and Phil keep passing each other every day and have managed to strike up a tentative friendship. The only problem is that they've never met in person.





	I Will Find You

**Author's Note:**

> So this AU is dependent on the mechanics of the 3DS's Streetpass function, which is pretty much explained in-story, but if you already know how it works, feel free to proceed.  
> If you don't know what that is and think you'll need a proper explanation, here're the basics:
> 
> -If two people who have a 3DS pass each other, they get something called a Streetpass. This is indicated by a green light on the outside of the 3DS case.  
> -Everyone with a 3DS gets to customize a small cartoon meant to represent you  
> -A Streetpass means you get to interact with the other people's cartoons  
> -These interactions include trading puzzle pieces and playing various minigames  
> -If you pass the same person more than once you can leave them a custom message  
> Congrats, you're all caught up! Enjoy the fic!

Dan Howell sat in the coffee shop and sighed at his laptop, the white screen staring blankly back at him.  Law textbooks and a nearly empty coffee cup were strewn about, haphazardly surrounding him on the table.

Bending his head forward to ruffle the curly, unwashed hair that fell to the side of his forehead, he contemplated his predicament. This paper was _not_ going well. He’d managed to speed through the rest of the homework he’d procrastinated on by foregoing his usual shower, hair straightening, teeth-brushing, and general hygiene routine this morning, but this paper…this paper would be the death of him. Eyes glazing over, Dan decided he needed a break.  A break and—he tilted the cup over—more coffee.

He tipped the mug all the way back, downing the last of the coffee like a frat boy chugging alcohol on a Friday night and slammed the cup back down on the table, much to the annoyance of the surrounding patrons. After offering up a sheepish smile and an obviously fake cough to try and dispel the miffed glances thrown his way, he planned. _One more thing to add to the list of Embarrassing Memories to Repress.  But first, coffee—_ he paused at the sudden pressure in his bladder _—first_ bathroom, he amended, _then coffee, then a break. Sounds like a plan._

_\-------------------------------------_

 

Phil Lester walked briskly through the city to his new job. The hours were from 6AM to 2PM and according to his phone, it was only 5:15, but the man didn’t want to be late on his first day. _That would not be a good first impression_ , Phil thought, yawning. Honestly though, who wakes up at 4:30 in the morning to go to work?

“A temporarily relocated weatherman, that’s who,” Phil muttered to himself. What he really needed was something to wake him up, keep him sharp for his first day at the newsroom, something like- the smell of roasted beans and hazelnut suddenly wafted across his nose- _perfect_.  Phil checked his phone again. He had time. Following his nose, the scent brought him across the street towards a tiny coffee store.

It sat unassumingly between a costume shop and an acupuncture clinic, the sign mostly hidden. The only thing alerting pedestrians to its existence was a small chalkboard on the sidewalk displaying the day’s special.

  
Inside was dark, and Phil had to blink a few times to get used to the dim lighting. Immediately to his left was an occupied sitting area with plush couches surrounding a fireplace and TV, while a mixture of wooden park benches and normal tables interspersed with people ran up the other wall. Coffee- making supplies and mildly sullen baristas took up the rest of the left side.  The whole place was sparsely decorated with assorted Christmas trees, knick-knacks, and snow, even though it was April. Subtle scents of vanilla and chai mixed in with the coffee beans gave the whole place a pleasant aroma. Phil felt like he had walked into a cabin in the woods.

Walking to the cash register, one particular patron near the back caught his eye. Or should he say, he noticed the _hair_ of the patron. All he could see of the man was his curly hair bent over the top of a laptop. The way the hair twirled around his head like Frodo’s or Bilbo’s reminded him of the multiple Lord of the Rings marathons he’d had as a teenager, or the times when his father lulled him to sleep with _The Hobbit_ as a child. Phil immediately dubbed the man “Mr. Hobbit-Hair.”

“-going to order, sir?”

“What?” Phil snapped out of his musings to realize he was frozen in the middle of the coffee shop, beaming at the head of a complete stranger. The cashier was giving him an unimpressed look.

“I said were you going to order, sir?”

“Yes, of course,” Phil said, nodding his head a bit too enthusiastically as he hurried over to the cashier _,_ a light blush dotting his cheeks. “Caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso, please.”

“That’ll be two fifty.” The cashier responded evenly. His eyes barely left Phil’s face while he swiped the debit card and wrote his order on the cup.

Phil shifted awkwardly, feeling the man’s eyes boring into his brain, sifting through every awkward encounter he’d ever caused and judging him for it.

“Name?”

“Uh- Phil. My-my name’s Phil.” _Dammit! You should have given a fake name. Now he could find you!_

The internal scolding must have shown on his face because the cashier had a slight smirk on his face as he wrote Phil’s name on the cup.

“You can pick it up over there,” he pointed to the pick-up counter.

“Right. Thanks.” Phil smiled nervously and did _not_ sprint to the other counter to get away from the scary man.

Mr. Hobbit-Hair had disappeared by the time Phil got the chance to look around again. _Maybe you scared him off with your creeping_ , a small, cruel part of his mind suggested. Phil groaned inwardly. _Great.  First day back in Manchester and you’re already scaring people away. Good job, self_. An iPhone alert interrupted his thoughts. 5:25, the phone read. It might as well have said “You’re about to miss the 5:30 bus because of your crippling caffeine addiction! Good job!” And wasn’t that just the icing on the cake?

“Caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso!”

Phil grabbed his drink and ran out the door, determined to arrive on time.

_Yeah, good luck with that._

_\-------------------------------------_

 

Dan stepped out of the bathroom in the back, greatly relieved, and shuffled over to the register.

“Hi, PJ,” he yawned. He and PJ had been friends since childhood. Sheer coincidence had caused PJ to work at the same coffee shop that was nearest to Dan’s University. “Give me whatever has the most caffeine and chocolate possible.” PJ squinted at him. “Don’t give me that look, I’ve been studying all night.”

“It’s not that,” replied PJ. “There was some guy starting at you earlier. I was checking to see if something was wrong with your face. More than usual, I mean.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. Wait, someone was staring at me?  When?”

“Just a few minutes ago,” he said on his way to the cappuccino machine. “Weirdo stopped right in the middle of the shop with this eerie smile on his face. I had to shout just to get his attention. You popular on campus or something?”

“Nope, I’m just your average introverted law student who’s slowly dying inside,” he replied with a wan smile.

“Well, Mr. Dead Inside,” he set a large cup on the counter between them “have a large quad espresso with two extra shots, eight pumps mocha, four pumps vanilla, four pumps hazelnut, filled the rest of the way with coffee, with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle on top. On the house.” He smirked at Dan’s wide eyes. “You’d be surprised how many people order this.”

“I’m not, actually. College student, remember? There are thousands of us poor souls.”  

The barista smiled “Oh, I know. I see at least five of your types shamble in here every day. I call them The Walking Dead.”

Dan snorted at the reference and took a sip. “Whoa. This is amazing. Thanks, Peej.”

“No Problem.”

Dan stepped back to his table for a long-awaited break, sipping his delicious chocolaty caffeine on the way.

He settled comfortably at his table, slouched down so low that anyone in the shop would barely be able to see the curls peeking over the laptop on his desk, and pulled out his 3DS. _Oh look, a green light_. _Someone else with a 3DS passed by._

The stranger’s cartoon figure jumped and waved at Dan’s own waving cartoon. “Muse>other bands” the small figure proclaimed as its generic greeting message. Dan smiled and heartily agreed. His own character had replied with his own generic message of “Alright, mate?”

The stranger’s character looked similar to his own, Dan noticed. Same black pants, shoes, and even the same hairstyle, though his cartoon was a brunet while the other’s was black-haired.  

“Alright then toon-me,” Dan muttered “let’s play some mini games with our new friend.”

\--------------------------------

 

Phil collapsed onto the couch at his apartment with a soft groan and closed his eyes in exhaustion. He figured that filling in for the weatherman—or weather woman on maternity leave, in this case—would be easy: wave your hands over the green screen and tell everyone how much to wear (or not wear) when they ventured outside. And that part _was_ actually easy. Phil thought it would be more nerve-wracking to be on live television, but oddly, that hadn’t bothered him much. No, what bothered him was _after._

…………

One of Phil’s new coworkers had pulled him to the side after his bit.

“I’m Marie. Good job on the weather; at least you can do that much right.” The second part she’d muttered to herself but was still audible to Phil.

“Excuse me?”

“At lunch, there’s going to be a party to welcome you,” she’d continued, as if Phil hadn’t spoken, “which you would know if you had shown up to the morning meeting on time.”

“That’s nice of you, but you don’t have to-”

“It’s not nice of me, it’s nice of my boss. He’ll take any excuse to throw a party and show off his cheeses,” she’d said with an eye roll.

“His…cheeses?” _Was that a euphemism for something?_

“He owns a side business making cheese. He’s very proud of it.”

 _Oh no_. “And if I happen to be lactose intolerant?”

Marie had eyed him critically. “For the sake of your future life here, you better not be.” She’d walked away after that, high heels stabbing menacingly into the carpet.

_This could not possibly end well._

…….

The first thing Phil had seen when he stepped into the break room was cheese. Cheese everywhere. Cheese on the tables, cheese on plates, there were even printed pictures of cheese on the paper cups.  He had the sudden urge to vomit.

“Well don’t just stand there, come on in!” A jovial looking man interrupted Phil’s thoughts. The latter reluctantly stepped toward the man and tried to introduce himself but was interrupted.

“I know who you are; I’m the one who requested you! Brian Mills—your boss and local cheese expert. Everything you’re about to sample is from my store.  Nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand. Brian had brown, thinning hair, rosy cheeks, and a friendly smile. In any other situation Phil probably would have liked the guy. Right now, he could only give a half-hearted handshake and smile to match.

Better get it over with.

“Actually, sir, I’m lactose intolerant.”

Brian’s smile froze on his face. “Well… how bad is it? Surely you could sample one or two! I’m actually introducing two new cheeses today and I insist you try them.”

Phil shifted uncomfortably. “I-I appreciate that, sir, and I can eat some dairy, but I also don’t particularly like cheese.”

The room froze.  All the employees stared at Phil, their faces screaming “HOW COULD YOU SAY SUCH A THING.”

“You…you don’t like cheese.”

“No sir.”

“At all.”

“…Sorry, sir.”

“Right…well…” Brian had had a lost expression on his face, as if unable to comprehend the possibility of someone disliking cheese. “Well you can still enjoy the party, um…I didn’t actually bring any other food, so you can just…mingle, I guess.” Brian had given a strained smile then walked resolutely towards the opposite corner from Phil where some other employees were awkwardly trying to look like they hadn’t been eavesdropping on the whole conversation.

Lunch went about as terribly as Phil had worried after that. His coworkers had acted awkwardly toward him since they didn’t know if being polite to him would incur the boss’s wrath. Some thought he was the biggest troll on the planet and smirked at him in passing, but didn’t stay to talk. A few coworkers outright scorned him, thinking that Phil was the rudest person on the planet to deny his boss’s homemade cheese.

Phil would have handed in his two-week’s notice right then and there if he weren’t already a temp.

_Just twelve weeks, Lester. You can handle twelve weeks._

After what Phil had decided to dub The Great Cheese Debacle, he spent the rest of the workday hiding at his desk and avoiding co-workers whenever possible.

Finally at home, Phil was tired beyond belief. Who knew embarrassment could be so exhausting?

Passing by his collection of movies which he’d playfully stacked into a castle when he’d moved in, Phil decided he needed a distraction. Despite the weariness seeping into his bones and his eyelids threatening to droop shut, sleep was definitely not on the menu right now, not unless he wanted to see Brian’s crestfallen face playing behind his eyelids on repeat. Phil flopped onto his futon. No, what he needed was something fun. Something engaging. And definitely something that had nothing to do with work, the weather, or- Phil shuddered- _cheese._

He eyed his Wii U and thought of playing Mario Kart but decided he’d had enough stress that day. Then his gaze wandered over to where his movie tower stood, the DVD Taken acting as half of a makeshift castle roof, but figured it wasn’t mentally engaging enough.

The man groaned and rolled over on the couch, and felt a lump dig into his right hip. A grumble of annoyance escaped from his throat and he rolled over again to take pressure off the item, only remembering that the couch didn’t stretch quite that far after he’d fallen face-first onto the carpet. Another, more undignified groan left him, really more of a pained wheeze this time. He shoved his hand into the pants pocket to pull out the offending object and throw it into the movie tower, but had just enough sense to look before he threw.

He was glad he checked first, because not only would throwing his 3DS into the three-foot structure of DVDs be a pain to clean up, but he would never have otherwise seen the little green light that indicated a Streetpass. He flipped open the lid out of habit. The person he’d passed had a cute little avatar that looked a lot like his own, the only difference being in hair color. He absently exchanged puzzle pieces with the character, finally completing a jigsaw puzzle he’d been trying to finish for a while. _Well…this guy seems like good luck. It would be a shame not to finish a few mini-games with him…_ he sat up and began to play. The next time Phil looked up at the clock, two hours had gone by and he’d completely forgotten what he’d been upset about.

 ----------------------------

 

Dan sat in the coffee shop again, procrastinating. Sure, he had a ton of homework; sure, that homework was due in three hours, but that doesn’t stop Dan from scrolling through Tumblr while systematically chugging coffee, hoping it’d make him more productive.

Instead of sitting in the back where he was immediately visible, Dan had decided to sit immediately to the right of the door where he could watch customers lumber in for their morning buzz. Since the register and coffee pickup area were on the left, it would be extremely obvious if someone were staring at Dan sitting on the right, in the corner, away from where any coffee might be.

 _Not that they’d see me anyway_ , thought Dan, slouched over in his patented Browsing PositionTM, causing his entire face to be blocked from view by his laptop screen.  

Just then the bell tinkled and a man with dyed black hair walked in. He looked…apprehensive? Dan wondered what the problem was until the man relaxed after looking at the current barista on duty (not PJ, unfortunately. He always made Dan the best custom drinks) and walked up to the cash register to order. He then waited at the counter for his drink while looking around, eyes passing over the laptop where Dan’s face hid.

“Caramel macchiato!”

The man picked up the drink, smiled at the barista, and took one last look around. He seemed disappointed. Odd. Then Dyed-Hair shrugged it off and walked out the door.

Dan turned his attention back to Tumblr. Doge stared back at him. “Wow. Much lazy. Very procrastinate.” It seemed to say.

He really needed to get off Tumblr.

\-------------------------------

 

Phil had decided to hide outside while eating his (cheese-free) lunch. He’d already successfully avoided the scary barista from last time by arriving during what he found was his off shift and later dropped to pretend-tie his shoe when his boss almost made eye contact at the office. He was two for two, but didn’t want to stretch his luck by eating in the break room.

Chewing his tuna sandwich on a bench, he couldn’t help but feel a bit lonely. Phil had hoped that the other coworkers would have gotten over The Great Cheese Debacle by now, but apparently not. Whenever he stopped to ask anyone a question, they answered with scorn, pity, or worst of all, cool detachment. 

 _I should have sucked it up and eaten some cheese; then I wouldn’t be eating alone…but then I would have been lying to them and my friendships would have been based on a lie…and I probably would have ended up at more cheese parties._ He grimaced. That was reason enough to be an outcast.  

Resigned to his fate, Phil pulled out his 3DS for some entertainment. A green light twinkled at him. _Another streetpass?_  He opened the device to see the same character as yesterday. _What a coincidence._ Phil thought. He decided to put in a custom message for the person if they ever passed again.  He wondered what to say.

 _I hate cheese? No, that’s too negative._ Finally, Phil typed in “Buffy> other tv shows.” Why not?

Mini games distracted him for the rest of break. 

\---------------------------------

 

This was Dan’s routine: He woke up at 8 PM after going to bed at noon, screwed around on the internet to procrastinate on homework, then when that proved useless, visited the coffee shop to feel more productive. That didn’t usually work either, but hey, he gets coffee out of the deal. Then after screwing around all night at the coffee shop and doing all his homework at the last possible minute, he headed to his morning classes- his only classes-, ate lunch? Dinner? At home, played on his 3DS, and then went to sleep.

The 3DS playing didn’t used to be in the agenda, but Dan had started playing a lot more often ever since he started getting street passes every day. From the same person _._ That wasn’t the only reason though, no the real reason was because of the little notes they left each other. They couldn’t say much, only 120 characters, less than a tweet, but it was enough.

It had started after the “Buffy> other tv shows” message the stranger had left him. _You like Muse_ and _Buffy? Oh, I like you._ So, he heartily agreed and left in his next message: “Buffy >other tv shows agreed. Pokémon> other games?”

The next day he got “Pokémon> other games. Favourite Pokémon?”

And so it continued. It turned out they had a lot in common. Dan almost felt like this person was a friend. A friend he only talked to in awkward 120 character sentences, but a friend nonetheless. Sometimes, he thought of actually meeting the dark-haired person he was talking to. _He probably doesn’t even have dark hair,_ Dan thought. _He probably looks nothing like his character. And he could be a she for all I know._ Dan mentally shrugged. Oh well. Attempting to fit entire sentences into a limited space was actually kind of fun, and Dan counted it as a personal victory when he managed to fit what would normally be three whole sentences into one abbreviated, mashed up message.

 _“_ Cn’t blve my frnd tht m fav pok was Goldeen ffs. Wht ds that say abt me? Do I rlly seem that lme 2 ppl? _” I can’t believe my friend thought my favorite Pokémon was a Goldeen for fuck’s sake. What does that say about me? Do I really seem that lame to people?_

He would most likely never meet this person in real life, but Dan was content with that. _Meeting new people was a chore anyway,_ he told himself, _and I’ll be moving after I finish university anyway so there’s no point in getting attached, right?_

_Right._

_\-----------------------------_

 

Eleven weeks, twenty-eight days, and- Phil checked his watch- three hours. That’s how long he’s been working at this news station and in one more day, he wouldn’t be any longer.

The whole experience hadn’t been the most pleasant, what with getting off on the wrong foot with the boss and then making all the employees around him uneasy as a result, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t grown fond of a few things. Two coworkers had decided that Phil wasn’t some freak and chatted from time to time, after apologizing for laughing at his embarrassment. They hadn’t much love for cheese either, they’d confided in him, but were playing nice so the boss didn’t hate them.

Phil had also enjoyed the city; returning to his hometown was a nice change of pace from the more hectic schedule he’d had in his last temp job. The coffee shops were fantastic, though they employed somewhat judgmental baristas. Most of all, he was fond of the daily Streetpasses and short conversations he got with them. Phil acknowledged that it was more than a little sad that he felt closer to a pixilated character than he did to his coworkers. Sure, his co-workers were real people whom he could have face to face conversations with, but they had nothing in common. The only non-work-related thing they talked about the weather, which, now that he thought about it, was also technically work-related. The only person Phil felt he could relate to was the person on the other end of his Streetpass.

The weatherman realized with a jolt that he’d never see that green light again. Well- he corrected himself- he _would,_ but it wouldn’t be the same person. He would never meet the guy who’d been talking to him these past eleven weeks in real life.

Frowning, he realized that that thought disturbed him more than it should. _There’s something you could do about that_ , the back of his mind commented. Phil shook his head. Sure, but that would be weird, right? They hadn’t actually talked, or ever even _seen_ each other. That would be too over the line, surely.

But Phil couldn’t help the sense of loss that distracted him for the rest of the day. That same sense of loss bothered him on the walk home, and continued to annoy him to the point of being desperate for a distraction. He looked around the room, searching for anything that could help until his eyes fell upon the movie on top of his collection of movies piled onto the floor.

 _Taken_. A movie full of action, shooting, and minimal plot. Perfect.

 

Forty-five minutes later, Phil was sat on the couch, worrying at the edge of _Taken_ ’s DVD case, rethinking his life choices. It turned out that the lack of plot had led to self-reflection.  If he didn’t find this person, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. It could, and probably would, end up very badly when they met face to face, going by how horribly his previous social interactions went, but Phil would have to take that chance.

He pulled out his 3DS to change the automated message for his unnamed friend but wavered over the keypad. He had 120 characters. How could he convey that he wanted to meet in real life, all while fitting in a place and time? _But we do meet in real life. We just haven’t noticed it yet._ So all Phil had to do was find him. That should be easy enough. He just had to make sure he noticed when he got a streetpass. Phil had a sudden image of him wandering the streets, holding out the 3DS like Inigo Montoya in the forest scene of The Princess Bride.

Phil shook the thought away. That would be embarrassing, even for him.

“I don’t know who you are,” Liam Neeson said from the TV. “I don’t know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don’t have money. But what I do have, are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my daughter go now, that’ll be the end of it, I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I _will_ find you… and I will kill you.”

Phil chuckled at how well that applied to his own situation—minus the whole murder thing.  He contemplated his own version.

 _I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. If you are looking for normalcy, I can tell you I don’t have it. But what I do have is a particular set of knowledge. Knowledge I have acquired over very long geek out sessions. Knowledge that makes me a daydream for nerds like you. If you hate me then that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I_ will _find you…and I will befriend you._

Phil chuckled again. It sounded about right. Emboldened, he typed out a short message.

_\-------------------------------------------------------------_

 

“ _’I will find you, and I will befriend you’_? Who is this guy, Liam Neeson?” PJ peered at Dan’s 3DS with an unimpressed expression. Like usual, PJ was hanging out in Dan’s corner of the coffee shop during break.

“That’s not the point!” Dan exclaimed “Don’t you understand? ‘I will find you’ means I am actually going to meet this guy. In real life. In person. Face to face.”

“Pretty sure those all mean the same thing.”

“What if he hates me? What if I accidentally trip and he laughs at me? What if we meet and have absolutely nothing to talk about?” Dan exclaimed, becoming more and more hysterical with each question.

PJ put a placating hand on his friend’s shoulder “You will have plenty to talk about. There were a ton of things you had in common, right? It’s not like you’ve managed to discuss them at great length.”

“But what if I make a complete fool of myself?”

“Then you’ll never have to see him again.”

“But I _will._ We literally pass each other every day, and once we know what the other looks like- “

“Then you will resolutely ignore each other and continue exploiting the Streetpasses to get more puzzle pieces.” PJ interrupted. “It’ll be okay. Besides, that’s the worst-case scenario. Most likely, you’ll have enough to talk about for at least one conversation. And maybe,” he added sarcastically, “you’ll make a new friend for once.”

Dan laughed. Right. Make a friend out of a complete stranger. Like that’ll happen.

 -----------------------------

 

Phil sat down on a bench shaded from the afternoon sun before abruptly standing up and walking by everyone in the park, 3DS held casually in his hand. After furtively checking for the green light, he sighed disappointedly and sat back down on the bench.

 _Grocery store, workplace, bar, the road to work, every restaurant I like, and now the park_ he mentally ticked off.  He wracked his brain for anywhere else he might have visited since moving here but came up empty. Truth was, Phil didn’t socialize or even get out of the apartment that often. The bit of socialization that he got from his coworkers, plus the strain of live television tired him out by the end of the day. So even if he had felt like heading out after work, more often than not, he’d be too tired to do anything besides play video games or watch Netflix in his apartment for the rest of the evening.

Phil slumped his head back, eyes closed. He was feeling drained right now, after running all over town. What he really needed right now was a nice, big cup of-

His eyes shot open in realization

“Coffee!”

 ---------------------------

 

Dan stumbled into the coffee shop and sank heavily into one of the plush couches by the fireplace. He threw his head into folded arms and sighed in relief.

The sound of footsteps approaching interrupted his bliss.

“Rough day?” PJ asked sarcastically.

“Go away,” Dan mumbled. “Midterms. Forgot until last night. Too tired.”

“Ah,” PJ nodded in understanding, “I guess you won’t be needing this caramel macchiato then.”

Dan’s hand shot out and grabbed the coffee PJ had been wiggling in front of Dan before the barista could blink.

“Sometimes I think you’re a mutant.”

Dan mumbled through the straw incoherently.

“Anyway, I’m on break. See you later, Grumpy.”

Dan waved lackadaisically, slightly more awake with coffee in his system, but not quite all there. He heard the bell tinkle as PJ walked out but Dan’s head had fallen back into the warm cocoon of couch cushions.  Dan contemplated taking a nap. On one hand, he’d get some sleep, but on the other, they might just throw him out for sleeping _here_.

He shrugged mentally, too tired to do it physically. He’s a loyal customer, they shouldn’t mind…

A dream about singing on stage with a sparkling top hat and cane had just begun playing in Dan’s brain when the sound of the tinkling door partially roused him again. Dan scowled into the crease of his arms. Why must doors make so much noise?

Just then, an excited voice exclaimed “I found you!” right in front of him, jolting the man back into reality.

Dan squinted up at the person who dared interrupt his nap. It was a black-haired man with pale skin who looked about Dan’s height. He was grinning in triumph and holding out a 3DS like some bizarre homing beacon. Blearily, Dan recognized him as the same guy he’d creeper-watched some weeks ago.

“Wha..?” Dan replied intelligently.

“You! I finally found you! I have been looking everywhere, you have no idea.”

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Sorry, who are you?”

“Oh! Right! Sorry, I just assumed you’d know since I said that I’d be looking for you.”

Dan furrowed his eyebrows, brain reluctantly kicking back into gear. “Wait…you’re the bloke I’ve been getting all the Streetpasses from?”

The man nodded eagerly and smiled. “And I found you, like I said I would!”

Dan smiled in return. “I guess you really are Liam Neeson.”

The man laughed. “Well I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been watching Taken when I wrote that,” he said, sitting down in one of the couch across from Dan. “But no, I’m just plain ol’ Phil.”

“Dan,” he replied. “Nice to meet you, finally.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Dan.”

\---------------------------------

 

“…so she’s ringing the doorbell but I’m terrified of her so I’m just cowering under my bed-“

“No!”

“Yup.”

“No one’s _that_ scary.”

“Trust me, if you saw her, you’d do the same. That wasn’t the only time I’ve hidden under furniture though, let me tell you about the time at my job when-” Dan cut off at Phil’s look of horror at something over his shoulder.

“Dan.” PJ walked purposefully over to the table, an uncharacteristically dangerous expression on his face.

“Hey, PJ, What’s up?” Phil’s face was growing whiter with every passing second.

“What are you doing talking to him?” he pointed at Phil accusingly, suspiciously eyeing the amount of built up empty plates and coffee cups on their table.

“And why can’t I talk to Phil?”

PJ made a face. “ _Phil_ , was the weirdo who was staring at you a while back.” At this, Dan turned to Phil with a surprised face. Phil’s face was equally shocked.

“That was _you?_ ” Phil asked, staring confusedly at Dan’s currently straightened hair.

“Like you didn’t know,” scoffed PJ.

He turned towards the other man, “I swear I didn’t! I couldn’t even see his face! I was just looking at his hobbit hair and it reminded me of Lord of the Rings and I started daydreaming and I didn’t realize I was doing it until you yelled at me and I’m so sorry please don’t kill me!” He said, flinching behind raised hands.

PJ and Dan stared.

The silence stretched.

“…did you just call it ‘Hobbit-hair?’”

“Oh, fuck no,” Dan pointed accusingly at PJ. “Don’t you _dare._ ”

“What was that, Frodo? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your luscious locks rubbing against your scalp. Tell me, what was it like in New Zealand? I bet it was fun being an extra for The Hobbit. Are your feet really as hairy as they say they are?”

“I hate you,” Dan said, sinking into folded arms on the table. “This is mortifying. I’m mortified.”

Turning back to Phil, PJ beamed, saying “You just gave me joke material for months. Thanks, mate. You’re alright in my book.”

Phil looked torn between relieved at PJ and panicked at Dan. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome!” He smiled, ignoring Dan’s muffled “Insulting me is all it takes to win your trust?” coming from the other side of the table.

“Don’t feel too bad, Dan. _Phil_ likes your ‘hobbit-hair.’”

Phil sent a thankful look to the other man and grabbed onto the bone PJ was throwing. “Yes, I do! The reason I was staring was because it reminded me of my childhood.

Dan raised his head just enough for his eyes to see over his arms. “Really?”

“Yeah. It made me feel safe and happy.”

Dan raised his head the rest of the way gave Phil a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” he shyly smiled back.

“…well it’s time for my shift,” PJ interrupted. “I’ll just leave you two to your flirting.”

Dan flipped him off without glance, his soft smile at Phil shifting to a smirk as PJ replied with a laugh. “Love you too, Dan!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Anyway,” Dan said, “Where was I?”

“I think you were-” a loud beeping interrupted Phil. “Sorry, that’s my phone,” he said sheepishly and flipped open his phone. “Oh shit, is it that time already?” He looked up at Dan whose smile was fading. “Sorry, I have to go pack for my train tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“…You want to walk me back home?”

Dan perked up. “Sure!”

“Great!” They collected their various plates and cups, returned them to the counter, said bye to PJ, and left.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while until Dan spoke up. “So where are you going?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll find out by tomorrow morning though. Such is the life of a temp,” he continued at Dan’s confused look.

“Ah. Where do you want to go?”

“London.”

“Why London?”

Phil looked up at the stars. “I’ve been there on assignment before, and it was the best job I ever had. There’s something about the city. The pace. The energy. Everyone going somewhere.”

“I guess you found your niche, huh?”

“I hope so. Living in London, working as a weatherman, it was a dream come true, but…” he trailed off, looking to the side.

“…you still didn’t feel like you fit in?”

Phil looked back at Dan, surprised. “Exactly. Because I don’t. I don’t fit in. I have to restrain myself from going on a rant about Buffy or talking about my favorite Nintendo games on a regular basis. My coworkers give me strange looks whenever I mention my weekend plans to binge-watch a TV show, and God forbid I say anything about Pokémon.”

Dan nodded. “I understand. PJ is the only friend I can talk to about Pokémon…but he’s also my only friend, so that may be why.”

“Not anymore he’s not.”

“No…I suppose not,” Dan replied, smiling softy at Phil. There was a pause then he continued “Just don’t say that shit around PJ or he’ll get jealous.”

They broke out into laughter.

As Dan’s chuckles faded away to a smile, Phil stopped walking. Dan belatedly stopped two steps later. “Well,” Phil smiled ruefully. “This is me.”

“Oh…” All at once Phil realized that he’d most likely never see Dan again. It was the same sense of loss he felt when he realized that he’d never meet the person on the other side of the Streetpass, magnified ten-fold. “I’ll text you, okay?” he burst out.

“You better. I can’t do without my daily conversation of 120 characters or less.”

“But only 120. I couldn’t stand you for any longer than that,” Phil says seriously.

“Oh shut up, you know I’m the only one who can relate to you about how awkward our lives are.”

Giggles bubbled up from Phil as he thought about the previous conversation where they were discussing that exact topic. “You got me there, mate. Well,” he continued after the chuckles had calmed down, “bye, Dan.”

“Bye, Phil.”

Dan took a few steps away before looking back, a small, wistful smile brushing his face. He lifted a hand in goodbye before finally turning around to walk away for good.

It was only in the morning, when Phil thought of texting Dan his destination did he realize that they never exchanged phone numbers.

 

\------Two years Later--------

 

Phil Lester sat in a coffee shop and sighed at his laptop, the galaxy background of his blog offering no inspiration. A 3DS and a freshly made caramel macchiato sat temptingly on the table before him.

This blog was not going well.  One of Phil’s New Year’s resolutions was to be more creative in his off time, which had somehow translated into writing a blog. So far, the only thing he’d written was a post of his resolutions and pictures of the new London flat he’d moved into recently.

Phil would claim that he needed a break now, but he hadn’t actually written anything new yet. Sure, he had plenty to say. He could go on and on about London, about his journey to here, the fight at his office to become a permanent London resident, the loud neighbor across from him, or the interesting characters in this coffee shop. Heck, he could even wax poetic about the bloody amazing caramel macchiato that was currently sitting on the table next to him.

But when he tried to put his thoughts to paper—or screen, as it were—his mind blanked. A huff of annoyance escaped Phil’s mouth. It would be so much easier if he could just talk to someone about this rather than trying to type it all out. He sipped the sweet nectar of caramel coffee and considered his options. He could get some speech to text software, but that was expensive and often inaccurate. Plus it didn’t pick up the emotion and energy Phil had for certain things. Couldn’t understand sarcasm that tone of voice or facial expression could give away, while only writing could confuse readers of his actual meaning.

No, what he needed was a video camera to record all of the nuances of the human body… _hmm_.  Phil put down the now half empty coffee and thought. He had a video camera on his laptop. It would be much easier to talk into that than to painstakingly type all of his wayward thoughts. And vlogs were getting more popular, weren’t they? Phil made a decision and then looked toward his laptop screen, opening up Word Documents instead of his blog this time, and wrote with renewed vigor, this time, on a script.

Two hours later, he sat back and viewed his work. A mixture of bullet points of stories from university and disjointed thoughts about random observations stretched all the way through ten pages of pure, unadulterated Phil.

He loved it.

Phil scrolled through it all, a smile growing on his face.  So intent was he on looking at the newly typed short stories that he didn’t notice the brunet man intent on his phone who’d just walked into the shop.

Giving his eyes a rest after two straight hours of staring at a screen, Phil leaned back and stretched, raising his arms above his head and letting the ambiance of the coffee shop return to him once more. Quickly the sounds of college kids frantically typing out last-minute essays, chatty housewives gossiping with each other, and customers ordering overpriced drinks filled his ears. The sound of a caramel macchiato being requesting reminded Phil of his own abandoned drink.  

Phil sipped the now lukewarm liquid, grimacing at the taste. The weatherman shrugged and gulped down the rest anyway, not wanting it to go to waste. Deciding he was done for the day, Phil pulled out his phone to text his brother about his new vlogging idea.

One of the college students clicked his laptop shut, a relieved sigh leaving his mouth. A lady in an obnoxiously pink sweater complained about her hairdresser to the other person at her table. The barista called out the caramel macchiato order. 

His brother didn’t respond. Phil put his phone away then pulled the 3DS toward him. He’d respond later.

The college student slapped shut a few books that were scattered about the table, an air of finality about him. Pink sweater lady switched to complaining about her dog’s hairdresser. The door clanged open then closed. 

On the outside of the small case, a small green light shone happily up at Phil. A Streetpass. He hadn’t gotten one of those in a while. Grinning, he opened the game. “Let’s see who you are…” Vaguely, Phil noticed phone number in the personalized message, but couldn’t process that because he was too distracted by the familiar cartoon character with brown hair. _Dan._

Phil’s eyes shot to the front of the shop and he just barely caught a glance of curly brown hair through the side of the farthest window before it disappeared out of view. Phil jumped out of his seat and ran to the door, not caring about leaving his stuff behind.  Searching frantically, Phil wondered why _now, of all times did it have to be crowded outside?_ He took full advantage of his height, even going up on his tiptoes to search until- there. At the end of the sidewalk, waiting for a light, was his long-lost friend.

Phil sprinted faster than he’d ever sprinted and probably ever would again, knocking enough people over in his haste to make Liam Neeson Proud, but he didn’t care, not now. Not when Dan was within reach. The light turned green and Dan looked up from his phone, belatedly taking a step.

“DAN! WAIT!” Phil shouted

The man turned around in confusion just in time for Phil to body slam them both onto the street, Phil landing heavily on top of Dan.

“What the hell- Phil?” Dan looked into Phil’s eyes as if seeing a ghost.

Phil smiled down at him.

“I found you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again to my two editors, littlebabylizzy for characterization check and Libertarian_Firelord, as always, for everything else (despite the fact that he has no knowledge of this fandom) (give this guy an award).  
> Bonus points to anyone who caught the "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman" reference. (and by "reference", I mean "lines I shamelessly ripped off").
> 
> Outtakes:  
> A: Amateum (me)  
> L: Libertarian_Firelord (my editor)
> 
> He figured that filling in for the weatherman—or weather woman on maternity leave, in this case—would be easy: wave your hands over the green screen and tell everyone how much to wear (or not wear L: ohh myy A: How’d I know you’d comment on this? L: You know me too well)
> 
> The Dan turned his attention back to Tumblr. Doge stared back at him. “Wow. Much lazy. Very procrastinate.” It seemed to say. (L: Oh boy. Meme-ing in your fic. How very memeingful. A: Oh shut up. Also Doge was relevant back when I originally wrote it, but now It’s kind of a dead meme. Any other meme suggestions for this bit? Or should I keep the old meme because this whole thing is kinda set in the past?  
> L: >asking for meme recs in a gay fic of two irl people.  
> What even is your life anymore?  
> A: >editing outdated memes in a gay fic of two irl people  
> What even is your life anymore?  
> L: I only edit cause you write it. It’s still technically your fault I’m editing this. Also, over the course of 5 rounds of edits/revisions, how did we both miss the fact that this paragraph starts with “The Dan?” HOW?!)
> 
> I hate cheese? No, that’s too negative. L: Also outs you as an asshole. A wrong, heretical asshole.
> 
> If he didn’t find this person, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. L: (Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. And for the rest of his life) 
> 
> Forty-five minutes later, Phil was sat on the couch (L: Oh, he “was sat,” was he? Was he asking for more buttered scones from the maître d, as he prepares to play the grand piano?! A:I’M CHANNELING THE ENGLAND, OKAY L: SO IT’S OK WHEN YOU DO IT. FUCKING DOUBLE STANDARDS A:I WAS MAKING FUN OF YOU THAT ONE TIME, YOU DIDN’T ACTUALLY HAVE TO CHANGE IT YOU SALTY-ASS BASTARD L:I am loling so hard @ “salty-ass bastard.”)
> 
> “No…I suppose not,” Dan replied, smiling softy at Phil. L: Awww A: WAIT DID I ACTUALLY MANAGE TO WARM THE COCKLES OF YOUR HEART RIGHT THERE L:…woman, you haven’t warmed the “cockles” of my anything.
> 
> “Yeah. It made me feel safe and happy.” L: Safe? Happy I get. But safe? A: You didn’t feel safe during your childhood in comparison to the utter chaos and precarity that the outer world screeches in your ear on a day to day basis now that you’re an adult? L:The outer world has been screeching in my ear since age 5. Get on my level.
> 
> It would be much easier to talk into that than to painstakingly type all of his wayward thoughts (L:CARRY ON MY WAYWARD THO-O-OUGHTS A: I wasn’t gonna say it).
> 
> Taken. A movie full of action, shooting, and minimal plot (L: I resent that “minimal plot” A: Oh please. A girl gets kidnapped and her dad shoots up a city to find her again. That’s the entire story L: two words: Liam. Neeson. A: THAT DOESN’T FRUKKEN HELP L: LIAM NEESON IS FUCKING AMAZING YOU BLASPHEMOUS HEATHEN. HE WAS TRAINED BY YODA, TRAINED OBI-WAN KENOBI AND ALSO BATMAN, IS ASLAN AND ZEUS, IS A MEMBER OF THE A-TEAM, AND HE SAVED THOUSANDS OF JEWS DURING THE HOLOCAUST. DON’T TRY AND TELL ME LIAM NEESON AIN’T THE SHIT). 
> 
> L: It really annoys me how good your drafts are. Mine always require multiple edits. A:To be fair, I always edit at least twice before I send it to you. Heck, I even edit my edits. Whereas you [wright] L: write (editing your edits, huh? A: MOTHERFU-) yours at 3AM and send it off to me right then and there
> 
> Phil realized with a jolt that he’d never see that green light again (L: Plot fucking twist: he’s actually Jay Gatsby


End file.
